Lady Tottenham smiled. “We are well-acquainted.”
“You know her?” As far as I knew, there was no woman in London called ‘Lady Teignmouth.’ It was anom de plume. After years of writing hateful gossip about the people of London, I doubted she would ever reveal her true identity.
Lady Tottenham gave a deep chuckle, lowering her voice. “I thought you were more clever than that.”
I raised my eyebrows. The mischievous smile on her face made my jaw drop. “You?”
She touched one of her ginger curls, a gleam of pride lighting up her face. “It will be our secret.”
I gasped. “You wrote about my sister and Lord Bampton? About Leonora and Mr. Ball?”
“The incident with Lord Bampton was what first brought you and your sister to my attention. Ever since then, I have been intrigued by you—a respectable widow with a wild younger sister and a very dismal future. I invited you here for a reason. I always hoped you would win.”
All the new information I had gathered over the past day made my head hurt. A laugh escaped my throat. “I want to be angry with you for writing those articles, but how can I? You have improved my life forever.”
She laughed, patting my arm. “It’s the least I can do.” She winked. “Now, since I am feeling well today, we must take advantage of it. Come with me to the study. We shall begin your training. You have a natural grace and elegance about you, but the mistress of Birch House must beincomparable.”
I helped her to her feet with a nod. “I will never live up to you,” I said with a nervous laugh.
“No, you will not.” She looped her arm through my elbow with a pompous smile. “But I should like to see you try.”
She led me out of the room with a chuckle.
I never would have expected it, but it seemed Lady Tottenham was now my only friend at Birch House.
In the study, she spent the entire morning showing me all the ledgers, listing all the servants that had been most loyal, and explaining all the positions of the household. She showed me the menu of her cook’s most successful dishes, the housekeeper’s schedule, the contact address for her steward, solicitor, and physician, and countless other items of business that would surely flee my mind after a night’s rest. It would take more than one morning for me to memorize all of it. Lady Tottenham’s high spirits gave me hope that she would live longer than expected. I had much to learn.
My head spun as I left the study two hours later. Perhaps I could write a letter to Henrietta. She would be positively bewildered to hear about all that had transpired in my life. I desperately craved her advice and good humor. I needed it now more than ever.
I held up my skirts to keep from tripping as I made my way down both flights of stairs toward the ground floor of the house. I doubted there was anyone amongst the guests who wanted to see me. They must have all been enjoying their time gossiping about me. I would ruin their conversation if I walked into the drawing room now.
Was Alexander in his room? Was he outside? I doubted he was in the mood for socializing. My heart pounded at the thought of facing him. I had to eventually. The recent memory of our kiss galloped through my mind.
A knock echoed at the front door as I passed through the vestibule. I paused, stepping behind the bannister to watch as the butler opened the door.
I felt the blood drain from my face as I heard the voice beyond the doorway.
“Yes, come in,” The butler said as he stepped aside, giving me a clear view of the man crossing the threshold of Birch House.
It was Miles.
CHAPTER 26
ANNE
Miles took two steps forward, casting his gaze all the way up to the lofty ceiling.
He held a bouquet of blue hydrangeas.
I cowered behind the bannister, my heart in my throat as I observed him. It had been four years, but he had hardly changed. His skin was tanner, but his blue eyes were still the same. His light brown hair was combed neatly, and his ever-present smile flooded my heart with familiarity.
My throat dried up like an autumn leaf, but I managed to choke out his name. “Miles?”
His eyes found me instantly, a wide smile splitting his face. “Anne Dixon, is that truly you?”
I was frozen where I stood, but my head nodded. I didn’t dare make a move toward him. He was a stranger at the same time that he was familiar. I had imagined our reunion so many times—I would run into his arms, he would hold me tight, promising to never let go again. But in my imaginary scenario, I hadn’t felt shy or afraid like I did now. My feet rooted me to the checkered tiles, a nervous smile tugging on my mouth. My heart pounded as he strode toward me.
He snatched up my hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “You are…” he shook his head in awe. “You are beautiful. I had nearly forgotten your face.”
